Dowmy the Imp LV 7


    -Health: Almost full.


    -Ether: 13/13


    -Strength: Minimal.


    -Agility: Medium.


    -Resistance: Minimal.


    -State: Somewhat sore. Excited.


    "[Minor Flare]!" exclaims the squeaky-voiced creature.


    Sweat beads dampen Dowmy''s bangs from the sudden ether drain, her lips go dry, lose breath, and a small yellow flame of power concentrate appears on the fingertip with which she points the target: a undead summoned by Jim.


    The imp tastes her lips in expectation, but suffers a moment''s hesitation and looks at the crystal hoping for comfort. Jimbo asks what''s wrong.


    "I don''t want to hurt him. He''s just like me?


    ?Just a skeleton, Dowmy. He''s not like you, and I''m sure doesn''t feel anything?


    "Really?"


    ?Yes. Tell her, skeleton?


    The undead nods, though it''s hard to figure out if the being has consciousness or is just Dungeon Core pulling the puppet''s strings.


    Dowmy is filled with confidence and shoots. The hot spot hits the skeleton, and fire covers it like a biting blanket. The fire burns for a few seconds, and when gone leaves a blackened undead still standing and capable to fight.


    Despite the fact that in her hands the spell is weak, Dowmy opens her mouth in a big smile and quickly turns her face to the crystal with hope-laden eyes.


    ?For your first spell you made it work pretty well, Dowmy?


    Dowmy''s cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much, but I can''t stop herself. Jimbo disappears the skeleton.


    "Can I ask you a favor, master?" Asks the imp as she massages her face.


    ?More food? Sorry, they took the wizard?


    "It''s not food... Can I... Can I have a hug?"


    Jimbo guards silence for several seconds, an attitude that makes the imp nervous.


    ?Dowmy, I don''t know if you noticed, but I don''t have any limbs?


    Jimbo doesn''t want to sound obnoxious, he''s telling the truth and even trying to make it sound like a joke. Besides, bodily affection is a feeling he''s not used to....


    On the rare occasions when Jim was able to build bonds with other people - whether at the orphanage, or when he won the scholarship and became independent - he shied away from his bad past experiences and retreated to the comfortable fortress of his dorm room and PC. Such an attitude was not so rare either, in the world he belonged to people like him were beginning to be majority. Jimbo couldn''t say whether that was good or bad compared to past generations, it was just different. He once considered renting an artificial womb to get offspring, but if he didn''t have time to take care of a dog or a cat, he certainly didn''t have time to raise a child.


    Dowmy''s good cheer is not diminished by Dungeon Core''s cynicism, she jumps, flutters and clings to the crystal, planting her cheek against the surface. Jimbo''s edges hurt the skin, but the imp insists on staying hugged a while longer.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Jim feels nothing outside, the crystal has no touch sense. But a strange, warm comfort wells up inside. Dowmy returns to her place, and thanks Dungeon Core for everything.


    ?Huh, sure, Dowmy. Anyway, let''s get to work - a dungeon doesn''t build itself!?


    Jimbo decides to keep his mind occupied, while also asking his non-existent heart to shut up.


    ...


    The oracle section of the castle is located below ground level, opposite Arrax''s laboratory. They also have cells, or rather interrogation rooms, not made for prisoners to stay long, under the flimsy light of two torches on the wall, the only furniture is a thick dark wooden table and two stools of the same material. The wood surface has splinters and the occasional time-darkened stain, the same goes for the stone on the walls and floor. According to Laikara, these somber details help put visitors in context without needing to say a single word. Sometimes it''s enough to bring a suspect into that dark corner for them to start singing like a canary.


    Arrax''s body is laid out on the table with his head positioned near the neck, the cut that divides them was clean and expert, and Laikara is tempted to ask the stoic Hilda if she was ever an executioner. Both know the answer is no, but it''s those pesky questions that sometimes reveal a person''s true colors. Next to the witch is King Marc and two hooded oracles who attend the meeting, while next to Hilda is a Marnie who keeps playing with her fingers.


    Laikara asks to repeat the testimonies a fifth time. Hilda maintains her version and calmness, sometimes restructuring the sentences, but insists on the same thing: Arrax went crazy, tried to destroy the Dungeon Core even knowing the king''s decision, and also basked in ambitions that even led to compare himself with the wizard king.


    Marnie was the weaker, but even with her constant stuttering and nervousness, her version of events held firm: Arrax was upset to learn that the Dungeon Core was acting without his supervision, he tried to discipline the crystal, but the imp tried to attack him, aggravating the situation.


    "The Dungeon Core seems to have a fondness for that creature," Hilda interjects. "And knowing the zero regard Arrax felt for his test subjects, a situation like this would have been inevitable. By chance or by blessing of the gods, I was present when it happened and acted in response"


    "You murdered a king''s man" Laikara says with her slitted eyes fixed on Hilda, assessing every slightest facial gesture.


    "I defended our majesty''s interests"


    "Or maybe you just seized the moment to get rid of an individual you hated"


    "Hatred leads to madness, error, and so many other monstrosities that I disavow. I insist on my position"


    "You claim you are immune to hate, Hilda?"


    "I never said that. Perhaps even hatred is my greatest flaw. But I know a red line when I see and I stop. Arrax jumped over red lines as if it were his true calling"


    During the sharp discussion, the king''s eyes never leave Arrax''s decapitated head. The wizard almost looks asleep... If it were not for the fact that the neck is separated from the torso and dried blood soils it. Marc closes his eyes, inhales deeply and lets out a long snort. Looking up again, he faces Laikara and questions whether Arrax can be revived.


    "My apologies, your majesty, but decapitation remains an insurmountable breaking point for resurrection magic," she says and glances sidelong at Hilda. "A detail that our captain here is well aware of"


    Hilda keep silent. Marc slowly shakes his head.


    "Hundreds of years of study and learning, and magic still has the same limits that my grandparents and great-grandparents knew," the king murmurs, talking more to himself than to the people in the room. "And to think that once it was believed that all the world''s problems would be solved with a ether pinch"


    Laikara offers to use necromancy to bring Arrax''s soul, but Marc dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand.


    "Arrax has suffered enough," says the king.


    The monarch''s words give way to a heavy silence that Hilda decides to break. She advances until is a step away from Marc. The oracles exchange uneasy glances and Laikara whispers and leaves ready a power word.


    "Your majesty, if you doubt my judgment, there is no reason why I should remain here," says the captain without a hint of doubt, maintaining a tight eye contact that the king reciprocates. "I swore loyalty and agreed to work for you because I recognize you as an honorable man who places responsibility above all else. Here, on the edge of the underdark, I would make the most of my skills and help me grow as a knight. Self-control, my ability to differentiate between right and wrong, to act when the situation calls for it... If all that is untrustworthy, I beg you to please dispense with my services here and now"


    The captain plants her knee and lowers the head. Marc looks at Arrax''s corpse again and sighs.


    "First Claus, now Arrax... I don''t want to lose anyone else. Get up, Hilda," he says with a dark look on his face. Hilda is back on her feet, and Marc places a hand on her shoulder. "You acted with foresight and certainty, just as a knight of the order should"


    The captain nods and turns back, however, Laikara has one last question to blurt out:


    "What happened to Arrax''s fingers?"


    Hilda looks over her shoulder and sees the witch, then looks at the corpse and notices the rough stumps on the left hand where the index finger and thumb should be. The captain asks Marnie about it, but Marnie shrugs, too scared to notice two fingers.


    "In the battle heat, injuries happen," Hilda says.


    The captain and the disciple leave the interrogation room. The rusty iron door creaks shut.